


Eden in Morning

by dracoqueen22



Series: Fidelis [2]
Category: Transformers: Prime
Genre: Angst, M/M, Pre-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-16
Updated: 2012-12-16
Packaged: 2017-11-21 06:05:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,052
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/594310
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dracoqueen22/pseuds/dracoqueen22
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dreadwing is assigned a mission at the worst time. (Pre-canon)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Eden in Morning

**Author's Note:**

> Fic contains a lot of author's head canon concerning why Soundwave chose to rebuild and what exactly Dreadwing was doing before he showed up in season two.

Afterward, neither Dreadwing nor any other Decepticon could say for sure how it happened. That the Autobots were to blame was a matter of course.   
  
Dreadwing suspected sabotage. Word amongst their own Special Ops was that Optimus Prime had acquired a new mech with... abilities. No doubt the Decepticons had just received their first taste of the mystery mech's talents.   
  
Many Decepticons had fallen in the unexpected attack. The base population had been reduced by forty percent, with another ten percent expected not to survive the joor.   
  
Soundwave was one of those mechs in critical condition. Already, three of his cassettes had perished, two more clinging to spark support. Only Ravage and Laserbeak had escaped unscathed, and were now crouched in the rafters, looking down on the scorched and mutilated form of their deployer.  
  
Dreadwing could feel their regard, the way they tracked the movements of any mech who came near Soundwave. Even now, despite the vorns Dreadwing had spent at Soundwave's side, they did not trust him completely. He doubted they ever would. Mini-cons were notorious for only confiding in their own kind.   
  
Dreadwing was a Seeker. He was Other. They still did not understand their master's interest in him. Sometimes, Dreadwing wasn't certain he understood Soundwave's pursuit either. He did not question it, but he didn't understand it either.   
  
The continuous beeping of the system monitoring Soundwave's condition was a pale comfort. Dreadwing knew, logically, that Soundwave would survive. He was too stubborn to offline. But his spark seemed reluctant to accept the logic. It was a mad whirl of worry in his chassis.   
  
He felt useless, just sitting here. He was no medic so there was nothing he could do to help fix his partner. Staring at Soundwave's mangled chassis was not helping matters.   
  
He shot to his pedes, systems humming an overextended pace. He wanted to be doing something.   
  
Lord Megatron had not given him a task yet. Dreadwing could only wait. Sit here in this private corner of the medfacilities and wait for Lord Megatron or for Soundwave to online.   
  
He wondered what his partner would do, if Soundwave already knew what had happened to more than half his symbiotes. Hook had said that Soundwave would have to make a choice. A rebuild was necessary, but the direction of that rebuild would be Soundwave's decision.   
  
Dreadwing couldn't honestly say which his lover would choose. Soundwave had always been abnormally attached to his symbiotes, even more so than was customary for deployer-class mechs.  
  
He didn't pretend to understand the culture surrounding Soundwave's build. He simply accepted it as another aspect of his lover's functioning, even if it meant there would always be mini-cons underpede. Lord Megatron wasn't a big fan of the cassettes, but even he couldn't deny their usefulness.   
  
Dreadwing folded his arms across his chassis, glancing at Soundwave's prone frame from the edge of his sensors. He felt he should be doing something other than pacing. Soundwave was not even online for Allspark's sake!  
  
His thrusters rattled, threatening to engage, an autonomic response to his conflicting mood. The control on his energy field wavered.   
  
Dreadwing turned back around, taking his seat once again, optics tracing the weld lines, temporary plating, and spark-support conductors attached to his partner's frame. His servo lifted before he thought twice about it, reaching for Soundwave's own, missing two digits and bound with metallic mesh.   
  
Soundwave wouldn't be able to feel it. His haptic net was disabled, along with his pain sensors. He was in such deep stasis that his components wouldn't even register the presence of a second energy field. Tactile contact was pointless.   
  
Dreadwing curled his digits into a fist and withdrew his servo. The sense of uselessness overcame him again. If only there was a battle, at least he could be distracted. But the battle had come and gone, leaving behind this devastation. That was, if Dreadwing could even term the explosion a battle.   
  
His personal comm pinged, the ident code registering command level and above. Dreadwing stilled, accepting the ping with a quiet resignation.   
  
\--Dreadwing, join me on the command deck at once.-- Lord Megatron's comm came through loud and clear, leaving no room for argument.   
  
Dreadwing lowered his helm. –As you command, Lord Megatron.--   
  
He received no acknowledgment, though that came as no surprise. Lord Megatron was a mech who expected to be obeyed and demanded nothing less. He was a true leader for the Decepticon cause. Perhaps he had finally discovered an appropriate assignment for Dreadwing, though considering his twin had deployed nearly a vorn ago, he wondered what had taken the Decepticon leader so long.   
  
Rising to his pedes, Dreadwing glanced once more at his partner. Soundwave was still in a medical stasis, which was probably for the best.   
  
Dreadwing brushed his fingers over Soundwave's faceplate, bare to the world as his visor and battlemask had shattered in the explosion. He looked so vulnerable like this, and Dreadwing was reluctant to leave him. But Ravage and Laserbeak were watching, Hook was nearby, and no Decepticon dared cross Lord Megatron. This would have to do.   
  
“Watch him closely,” Dreadwing murmured, knowing that Laserbeak and Ravage would understand him, and then he took his leave.   
  
Beyond Soundwave's private corner, the rest of the medfacilities was still in a flurry of activity. Casualties from the sabotage attempt were still being tallied, each new designation added to the list making anger spike sharply through the ranks. Sabotage was not uncommon in the midst of war, but tacking it onto the energon shortage and the advent of a new Prime made it all the more offensive.   
  
This base was not as well-equipped as the stronghold the Decepticons had been forced to abandon. That a store of energon had gone up in flames in the blast was another acid pellet to the spark. Small wonder Lord Megatron was shipping caches of energon off-planet, ordering some of his best warriors to guard them. Skyquake was among them and Dreadwing felt his twin's absence keenly.  
  
None of the medics paid Dreadwing any attention. He felt the quick flicker of a few passive scans, but since he registered as undamaged and fully fueled, he was just as quickly dismissed. They had other mechs who needed their attention more.   
  
The corridors were filled with as much frenetic energy as the medfacilities had been. This base had not been designed to hold so many troops and was now over-capacity, soldiers doubling and tripling up in quarters. Curse the Autobots for forcing them into this predicament.   
  
Several floors up and a lift ride later, Dreadwing found the command center, squirreled away in the most defensible portion of the base. Here, security was much tighter, the soldiers stationed around some of Lord Megatron's most trusted, most loyal.   
  
Why these faithful included _Starscream_ was a mystery Dreadwing would never comprehend. Neither he nor Soundwave could understand why Lord Megatron kept the querulous Air Commander so close. It was no secret that Starscream loathed Lord Megatron and was only interested in building a power base for himself.   
  
Yet, it was not Dreadwing's place to question Lord Megatron. He knew already that Soundwave had tasked himself with always keeping a close optic on the treacherous Seeker. Starscream was an adequate leader and warrior, but in Dreadwing's opinion, the threat of his betrayal outweighed any other value he might have had.   
  
It still ruffled Dreadwing's plating to walk into the command center and find Starscream at Lord Megatron's side, obsequious blather pouring from his vocalizer. There were others here as well, but Dreadwing was probably the only mech who noticed and lamented Soundwave's absence. It was rare to see Lord Megatron without his communications officer at servo.   
  
There was another mech present as well, one Dreadwing did not recognize. His plating was a blue so dark it was almost black, his optics concealed by a visor. His build was easily infiltrator-class and though he bore no visible weapons, Dreading had little doubt that the mech was armed to the denta.   
  
“Ahh, Dreadwing.” Lord Megatron's lipplates curled into something like a smile, optics lighting as the door slid shut behind Dreadwing. “Prompt as always.”   
  
Dreadwing effected a shallow bow. “I live to serve, Lord Megatron.”   
  
Starscream's vents huffed an irritated intake, prompting Lord Megatron to give his second-in-command an askance look. “There are many Decepticons who would do well to learn by your example.”   
  
He left no confusion as to _whom_ exactly would benefit.   
  
Starscream's wings fluttered as he crossed his arms and whirled on a heel, turning his dorsal plate to both of them. One could almost see the indignation in his energy field.   
  
“Your regard for me is humbling, Lord Megatron,” Dreadwing replied, shifting his full attention to the Decepticon leader. “What is it that you wish of me?”   
  
Lord Megatron straightened, the full effect of his presence filling the confined space of the command center. “I have received information regarding the Autobots.”   
  
Dreadwing's optics flicked to the unfamiliar mech, prompting Lord Megatron to chuckle.   
  
“Yes, Counterpunch is one of our agents,” the Decepticon leader said before waving off the infiltrator. “He's brought some interesting news. The Autobots have put together a team, assigning said team a mission of utmost importance. I'm certain you have heard of the Wreckers.”   
  
His optics narrowed, unable to contain the brief spike of revulsion in his energy field. “What Decepticon has not?” Dreadwing replied, forcing his servos to relax, though his hydraulics tightened with tension.   
  
He had little love for the Autobot Wreckers. They were the bane of every Seeker's existence, and not too few Decepticons either. They were mad warriors, caring little for their own sparks, and took great joy in battle and tearing out Decepticon sparks.  
  
“Yes, well, Optimus,” and here Lord Megatron sneered, the hatred for his former partner as strong as ever, “plans to send a unit of Wreckers after some artifact of power.”   
  
Dreadwing frowned. “What sort of artifact?”   
  
“One of Nova Prime's legendary blades.”   
  
His ventilations stuttered. It didn't matter to him which of the famed Prime's weapons the Wreckers were seeking. Any one of those blades would be a dangerous tool in the servos of the Autobots. It would give them an edge in the war, especially if wielded by their Prime.   
  
“They know where to look?”   
  
“So it would appear,” Lord Megatron replied with a rumble of his vocalizer. He narrowed his optics at Dreadwing. “Take a cadre of your best Seekers, Dreadwing. Intercept the Wreckers and destroy them. I want that blade.”   
  
Dreadwing inclined his helm, meeting his master's optics as he clasped his fist to his chestplate. “I understand, Lord Megatron. I will not fail you.”   
  
“See that you don't.” Lord Megatron dipped his helm in approval before he turned back to the main bank of monitors, servos clasped behind him. “The Wreckers launch at moonrise from Praxus. If you have any chance of tracking them, you must be ready to follow.”   
  
Disappointment rose before Dreadwing could chase it away. That did not give him much time. He could assemble his team well enough, but he would not be here when Soundwave woke. He had little doubt that Soundwave would understand, but it still seemed callous to leave on what was certain to be an extended mission when his lover remained in a medical stasis, his future dubious.  
  
“Is that a problem?”   
  
Apparently, his silence had dragged on for too long. Lord Megatron had half-turned to look at him, optics dark and curious.   
  
“No, Lord Megatron. I shall arrange a team at once,” Dreadwing replied, careful to keep his tone neutral. He could not, after all, protest on account of his lover being indisposed. Lord Megatron was not aware of their relationship which was probably for the best.   
  
The Decepticon leader gave him a long, lingering look before turning around once more. “Good. Dismissed.”   
  
Dreadwing bowed though Lord Megatron could not see it, and took his leave. He did not, however, miss the look Starscream gave him as well. There was a treacherous gleam to the Seeker's optics that did not bode well for anyone. With Soundwave out of commission, there was no one to keep an optic on Starscream either. Only the Allspark knew what sort of mischief Starscream had planned.   
  
If only Skyquake were still here. At least Dreadwing could trust his twin to watch Megatron's back.   
  
With moonrise only joors away, Dreadwing did not have much time. He would have to act quickly to ensure that he and his team did not miss the launch window.   
  
He called to mind the designations of every member of his force, choosing and dismissing each Seeker one by one until he had a team worthy of the mission. Without knowing the full extent of the Wrecker crew, Dreadwing would have to guess to the best of his ability. But what single Autobot could withstand the might of a Seeker?  
  
He disturbed half of his team from recharge, one so groggy he must have been in the middle of a deep defrag. Another fourth were in the middle of extracurricular activities. The latter fourth were eager to hear of their mission, trapped as they'd been planet-side for many orns.   
  
None protested. All were ready to serve Lord Megatron.   
  
It took several joors for Dreadwing to ensure that his team of Seekers would be ready. He had supplies to arrange, way stations to confirm, and he had to make contact with Barricade to substantiate Counterpunch's claims. Dreadwing needed to know exactly when and where the Wreckers team would launch from in order to ensure he would be able to track them.   
  
By the time all was said and done, Dreadwing had missed out on his own chance for recharge and had little opportunity to complete much else. Moonrise approached on swift wings and he only had time for one last stop before he would meet with his cadre.   
  
He returned to the medfacilities, which had calmed a great deal in his absence. It was much quieter when he stepped into the large installation, the only remaining patients those in a stable condition.   
  
“You're too late.”   
  
Dreadwing paused, helm swinging to identify the owner of the voice. He spark gave a great surge. Too late?   
  
Hook emerged from a smaller side room, wiping his servos on a piece of metallic mesh. “He's already gone to surgery.”   
  
“Surgery?” Dreadwing frowned, disappointment slumping his shoulders. “For how long?”   
  
Hook's engine revved with irritation. “We're attempting to repair his substructure. It'll take joors. And he won't be coming out of medical stasis until long after that.”  
  
Once again, Dreadwing was faced with time he did not have. “You've already induced stasis?”   
  
“Of course I have,” Hook snapped, his back kibble flicking upward. “What kind of second-rate surgeon do you take me for?” He whirled on a pede, sharp strides taking him closer to the operative ward. “And no, you can't go in there 'just for a klik.'” The last was spoken in a mocking tone, a phrase Dreadwing was sure Hook had heard on more than one occasion.   
  
This was most unfortunate.   
  
“I see.” Dreadwing's frown deepened. “Do you have a spare datapad then?” If he must leave, he could at least have the courtesy to offer Soundwave an explanation, even if he couldn't give it himself.   
  
Hook huffed as though this was a great botheration on his part. “Let me see what I can find,” he grumbled and changed course to start rummaging about in one of the many supply closets scattered around the medfacilities.   
  
Dreadwing took the opportunity to scan for Laserbeak and Ravage, assuming they had hidden themselves in the surgical ward or had been sent elsewhere. He knew they would not attach themselves to another carrier mech until Soundwave's fate was certain, but there were other deployers on base that might be willing to dock them temporarily. However uncomfortable that might be.   
  
Hook returned, thrusting a careworn datapad in his direction. “Here,” the surgeon huffed, looking much put-out. “Leave it on the counter. I'll make sure he gets it.”   
  
A light chirp echoed from above them.   
  
Dreadwing lifted his optics, finding that Laserbeak had taken a perch in the ceiling, above the door to the surgical ward.   
  
“Thank you for the offer, but I believe I've found a better courier.”   
  
“Suit yourself.” Hook revved his engine, making the flooring rumble, before he showed Dreadwing his dorsal plating with a rattle of his kibble. “Now I have surgery to attend. If you'll excuse me.”   
  
Ignoring him, Dreadwing powered on the datapad, which had certainly seen better orns. Hook must have pulled it from the darkest, most forgotten corner of the facility.   
  
Words. Words were the problem. Not the datapad itself but the message he would leave upon it.   
  
He started with the truth, that Megatron had given him a mission and it was not in him to disobey. Not when Lord Megatron issued a command. Soundwave would understand that much.   
  
The rest...?   
  
Dreadwing huffed a ventilation, curling his servo around the datapad.   
  
They had promised nothing to each other, had kept their relationship, if it should be called such, a secret. Gentle phrases of love and devotion had never passed between them, even if such tender emotions might have been present.   
  
Truth be told, Dreadwing should not have felt he owed Soundwave an explanation, but he did anyway.   
  
He wondered what build Soundwave would choose. He wondered how Soundwave would react upon learning of the deaths of his cassettes, though surely he must have some inkling. Dreadwing wanted to be present, to offer whatever comfort Soundwave would accept.   
  
One talon tapped on the datapad's screen.   
  
Laserbeak chirped once more, suddenly alighting from the pipes. A quick lap around the facility and the cassette landed on Dreadwing's shoulder, nudging lightly against his helm. It was a gesture he almost called affectionate.   
  
He cycled his optics, staring at Laserbeak.   
  
The mini-con had never done such a thing before. All of Soundwave's cassettes had more or less tolerated his presence, never gone so far as to initiate physical contact. Was he, perhaps, being accepted?   
  
An emotion, impossible to name, fluttered through Dreadwing's spark, and somehow, he found in that moment, the words he needed. After all, he would return soon enough.   
  


***


End file.
